Loki's Sorrow
by loka-cameroon
Summary: When Loki spends a day trying to please his father, Odin responds in discontent of Loki and a favour for Thor. Loki will come to learn how little love Odin has for him in utter dismay, hurt, and betrayal.
1. Disappointment

So, in this story I would place Loki around 14 and Thor 16. Sorry, I know I changed it, but I feel more comfortable having them as teenagers now that I look over the language I used in the next chapter. Again, I don't know how far I will bother taking this story, and it was originally meant for one-shots, but we see how that went. Please review!

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><p>Laying out an Asgardian book on history off to my side and positioning a blank parchment and inkwell with quill in front of me, I furrow my eyebrows in deep contemplation. Before picking up the quill and reopening my brilliant green eyes, I slick back my hair once more with a palish-grey hand. Finally, I gaze down upon the paper and grab the feather pen, my black fingernails shouting out in contrast from light skin.<p>

"This is it," I tell myself. "I need to start this."

For days I have been planning out to write an article on my own thoughts behind history, on how Odin really should have felt when he created man with Honir and Lothur, what the true deep meaning is behind the War betwixt the Aesir and Vanir, and all things of that nature. Surely, there must be some deep underlying message of all that has happened in the past, some hint to what life means and that nonsense. I do not discuss my findings with anyone else, but I truly do have a philosophical, ever-questioning mind. It is my nature, though when I ask Father how he feels on the matters of life, he calls me a fool and tells me to not question the great powers of the gods. I may have hid the question behind a silver tongue, but never did I mention that the Aesir should not have power. His mind confuses me.

Quill now dripping with the dark ink, I lay a pen on the paper and start scratching out the sharp letters of our alphabet into coherent sentences. My mind is racing as new thoughts come to my head, my fingers in constant motion between writing down new paragraphs and looking up some new subject in the history book. And I am absolutely enthralled by all of this! I am as giddy as Thor is when he beats someone older than him in combat! Perhaps when Father sees how well my theses are going, he will be proud of me! Oh, how fast my heart beats as my fingers fly even faster, not missing a beat or misspelling a word.

I am barely aware of what I write, but as I skim through the text every now and then, my consciousness fully agrees. It is like my awareness of the world around me becomes numb as my mind demands my hand to get down every last drop of information, every last reasoning that hangs in my mind. This feeling is absolutely sensational and wondrous and -

"THOR!" I shriek.

As I had just been finishing up the first chapter of my theses, my oaf of a brother just charged in, running as though there was a Jotun chasing after him. And as he halted in front of me, he tripped himself on all of his fumbling steps, crashed into the table, and spilled the permanent ink all over the page! My day's work after weeks of studying, ruined! I barely remember what I wrote, so how can I possibly reclaim every last word? How can I make this back up? Oh, now I'll never get this done!

"What's wrong, Brother? It was just some old paper. I'm sure there's a copy of it somewhere else in the library," Thor assures me, making it worse.

I pick up the black-drenched paper, careful not to stain my hands in the process, and stare helplessly at the lost words. When Thor mentioned there being another copy, I set aside the fresh loss and glare at him. I lower my eyelids and narrow my eyes and glare and frown at him as hard as I possibly can, furious at his actions. But he looks so clueless, unaware that he destroyed the only copy I have of my thoughts, something I can never recreate, and totally oblivious of his insult-to-injury remark of there being another, which, no, there is not. In complete frustration of my racing, depressing thoughts, I totally break down. Letting the paper fall from my fingers, I raise my hands to my face and sob.

Usually I do not let my emotions show so easily. I am naturally situated behind a mask of indifferent coolness, only coming alive when someone angers me, such as Thor. But when so much of my time and knowledge has been lost like this, I just can't help myself. That document meant so much to me. It was my key to gaining Father's love, now lost by Father's favourite.

"Thor, tell me. Do you _try _to make my life miserable? Or does it, Yggdrasil forbid, _come naturally_?" I ask him, almost in disgust over his reckless behaviour.

"I don't try to make things bad for you, Brother. It just happens. I'm sorry. Is there another copy of it?" Thor says, and he is genuine.

He's so much like a lost puppy, clueless and always causing damage, but he does not realise that it was damage. He's just too caught up in his own world, in his own selfish actions, trying to prove he is best at everything because he is Odin's son. He doesn't realise a whole lot of stuff, he is kind of slow. But I know he means well, no matter what.

"No, there isn't. I was writing out my own theses on history," I confide in him.

"Why? That sounds boring. If you've read all of the books here, then maybe you can ask Father for more, instead of resorting to this," Thor suggests, appearing rather appalled that people still write stuff down.

"No, that is not why I wrote it. I have been noticing that there were underlying meanings in history, so I thought I would write it down before anyone else could. I was about to go tell Father, too, but now I can't," I sigh.

"Can't you just write it down again?"

"Nay, Brother, for I go into a sort of unconscious state when I write, so a second edition of this would not turn out as right."

"Well, you're good at magic and sorcery and that stuff. Isn't there a spell to clear off all of this ink?" he asks.

Of course! Why didn't I think of that? There were always spells to recover stuff, either by memory or just clearing off the ink itself. As I try to pull my thoughts out of despair and confusion, Thor sits down next to me. Within minutes I have thought up a spell that would clear off most, if not all, of the wretched ink.

"I've got it!" I exclaim, my voice quiet, though, since we were in the library.

Snapping my fingers, I start reciting a short spell to make the ink drip back into the well. Thor holds the small container directly under the paper as I make motions that would encourage the mess to clean itself up. Just before the words start to slide off, too, I stop the whisperings and put down the paper. I have only done the spell once before in practice, so I had to say it out loud. Usually it takes me a few tries before I can accomplish an entire spell without speaking a word.

After a few moments of this, I hold up the redeemed article and smile slightly, all worry draining from my heart as my mind cheers. Even Thor smiles for my success in not only getting back the original copy, but afterwards, completing it. He sat patiently the entire time as I edited the few mistakes and concluded the article with a short paragraph on how much the past can teach us. I sign my name quietly at the bottom and stare at it merrily.

"It's finished?" Thor says. He had been resting his head on his arms but sat up when I set down my quill.

"Yep, all done and correct and in order," I smile. "Thanks for holding the inkwell."

"No, I cannot be thanked, since I caused all of that to happen. And I'm glad you thought of a spell. I knew that you could fix it. I guess that's why I'm always so careless around you," Thor shrugs.

"Yeah. Well, I'll try to always be there when you need something, Brother," I nod. "So what brought you here in the first place?"

"Oh. Right," Thor says, closing his eyes as he tried to remember what he came for. I waited patiently. "Oh no! Now I remember! Come on, Loki!"

"What? What is it?" I ask. Thor catches my wrist and pulls me after him. I only have enough time to snatch up the article before I am running as fast as I can after him.

"Father? I got Loki as you requested," Thor says shakily as we enter Father's Throne Room.

"What took you so long?" Odin asked, his face grim.

"I was running when I fetched Loki and so I accidentally tripped and spilled ink on Loki's paper. But don't worry, because Loki used all of his smarts to fix my mess. Oh, sorry for being late, Father," Thor explains, smiling at me when he complimented me.

"Right," Father says slowly, looking oddly at Thor's merriment.

"So, why did you want me, Father?" I interrupt.

"I wanted to remind you two that tomorrow is your mother's birthday, so I expect you two to _make_ her something, on your own, that she'll appreciate, as a gift. And arrive here early so that we can start the celebrations immediately. Loki, please make sure you get Thor up and ready, by whatever means," Father tells us, sighing when he mentions Thor.

"Yes, Father," Thor and I respond, in sync.

"Oh, and Father. I wanted to give you something," I whisper, walking up to him.

I hand him the paper I worked so hard on carefully, my hand barely brushing against his fingers, and then step back shyly. As he scans my work, my heart drops and I feel absolutely scared about what his reaction would be. It is no great physical feat, but it is the best I can offer and the whole study meant so much for me. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait as he scans through the paper, wanting to just get his response and then flee. I can feel myself shaking.

"Steady, Brother," Thor whispers. He puts two firm hands on my shoulders to steady me, but I still shiver with fright.

"But what if he disapproves?" I whisper back.

"That's his opinion. It only matters if you approve."

Wow. Thor can be wise? His last statement makes me open my eyes and stop my shivering in surprise. My eyebrows furrow and my tongue forms the question of where Thor could have possibly pulled up such encouragement, when Father clears his throat loudly and let's his hand fall back against the arm of the throne. I jump slightly and glance up, Thor mimicking my actions on his own.

"Loki, some of these thoughts of yours are far off. I am proud of creating man, not suspicious on how their civilisation will advance. This is not worthy for staying in the library, son. Redo it, get more information, and we'll talk. Good start, though, okay?" Father scolds.

I am about to turn away, but he speaks again.

"And Loki? Perhaps this time, instead of writing this _garbage _of morals, you can do something productive and learn something from Tyr. I'm sure Thor can help you around, build your strength. You must have some talents of strength, you're just not trying enough. Put away that knowledge of yours, it shall do you no good in battle, and start training to be more like your older brother. Besides, us Asgardians are known for strength, not silly little articles about each other's thoughts," Father says. He then waves, telling me that he is finished.

He holds out my article so I run up and grab it, then sprint out of the room, my hands already in front of me to push open the doors. As I crash through the doors, I pass Mother on my way, making her jump aside in fright of my wake.

"Loki! Where are you going?" she calls after me.

I continue, though, not hanging around to hear Father's explanation. My eyes sting as I suppress the tears welling up, ignoring my urgent need of a tissue. I just keep running, pushing past the servants and guests, but I knew no one would question my situation. I have run away from Father in a fit of depression so many times that no one thinks twice now. Except maybe Thor and Mother, because Mother cares and Thor has some sympathy towards my situation. Sometimes I wander if deep down, he has realised the notion that Father favours him over me.

Bursting through the last double doors into the open air, I blink in confusion of the sudden bright light of the sun. But I push on towards the meadows of Asgard, passing by statues and fountains to a large willow tree. It's slender branches reach down to the ground in such a way as to make an outdoor bedroom, of sorts. I have spent so many days under it's drooping leaves, hiding from the world, that I consider it my second room. No one ever really finds me here, though, since it creates absolute privacy.

Slipping past it's wall of leaves, I climb up the gentle incline to the trunk, careful to leap over the thick roots, and sit down, my back resting against it's slightly tilted trunk. Here I relax my rigid, stony expression, and let all emotion cross my face. I pull my knees up to my chest and let salty tears run over the cloth, the dark material becoming even darker as it stains. I let out a few strangled sobs, my breath terribly shallow due to the yells halted in my throat. If a servant passes by here and chances to hear my cries, I might be found. I must be silent.

As I calm down, my breathing deepens and the only sound I make is hiccups, so dreadfully annoying. My body slackens from it's locked stance and I shift more of my weight against the willow's trunk, tilting my head back and closing my eyes. Throughout this process, my only thoughts are to stay quiet.

But soon my mind is racing again, retelling me the tale of Father's disapproval of my work. He mocked me so! My chest feels so empty right now, so lonely and alone. I tried my hardest to guess at his feelings over the past, I did my best to sum all of my thoughts together in one telling, but it was not enough. It's never enough. He cares not how far I have gotten in my studies, how knowledgeable I am. And my only hope is that Thor may have contradicted him. But I know he wouldn't have, Thor doesn't even know what the document is about. I am sure he just shrugged over my misbehaviour and then went back to the training fields. But in the back of my mind, I can see a daydream of his standing up to Father for me. Would he, though?

No. Probably not.

There's just, nothing else I can say. I tried my hardest to gain the pride of my father, but I was wrong, so now I must start all over. And if anyone does approve of my meager attempts, I am glad for that, but it is not other's approval that I crave. Perhaps Mother's, but she has the love of a mother anyway, and she cherishes both Thor _and _me. For that I am thankful.

"Loki? Are you here?" I hear a boy's voice call. I clear my throat a few times and respond.

"Thor? Is that you?" I ask, my voice still shaking from the strangled sobs.

"Ah, here you are, Brother. You ran out so fast that I was not sure where you went. I checked the library and your room and then the servants told me that you were heading this way, and here you are!" Thor explains, walking towards me. "Anyway, Mother wants you. Please come with me."

"Why? So she can mock my failure, too?" I throw back bitterly. Sarcasm is my natural self-defence.

"No. No, that's not it at all," Thor opposes, confused on how I could question Mother. "She wants to make sure you are okay."

"How can I be okay? I just got my belief's rejected by Father!" I shout.

"Yeah, that was harsh of him."

"Did Mother say anything?"

"No, she didn't. But I told Father how much you worked on the paper," Thor tells me, smiling proudly to himself. I look up with a tearful glance.

"Really? What did he say?"

"He just said that maybe you should have gathered more evidence before showing it to him. That he had no time for such things," Thor shrugs.

"But I have asked his opinion! He just told me not to worry about it, that I was a fool for even asking. And he always has time to see your physical accomplishments!" I scoff. How could he lie?

"I know. I guess Father prizes brawn over brains," Thor says, apologetically. He sits down besides me softly, trying not to disturb my own fragile body.

"I just don't understand. Normally I don't care that he cares about the competitions over my knowledge, but I designed the document just so I could prove to Father that I was worthy, that I was an equal Asgardian. I put him in good light and everything!" I continue.

"I'm sorry that there is no place for brainiacs here, Loki. I'll change that when _I'm _king, Loki," Thor assures me.

_Ha, like that's going to happen_, I think to myself, but I hold my tongue against the doubts.

"Thank you, Thor."

"So will you come with me to Mother?" Thor offers. He stands up and holds out his hand. I take it and am instantly pulled onto my feet.

I nod and we go back to the Throne Room. Mother is sitting there, but Father is absent. She runs down to me, picking me up and embracing me, but it is just love, not pride. In my hands, I still hold the paper I worked so hard on. Mother sits back down, stroking my black hair and telling me it will all be okay, but it is not that same thing as her telling me my work was right.

And this was only one of the different memories I have of Father being disapproving of me while he gloated over Thor, his physical strength and all. These thoughts carry me through the years, though, and someday I _will _prove myself equal to Thor! Someday I shall be king and usher in an era of knowledge, instead of another of strength. Someday,_ I will be worthy_!


	2. Not Perfect

_This takes place, like, the day after the last scene, so same age and everything. I was listening to Perfect by Simple Plan near the end if you notice, so you'll get it if you see/hear the lyrics. Enjoy!_

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><p>"Damn," I whisper to myself.<p>

I sit under one of the trees down in the Training area behind the palace, overseeing Thor's practice slightly. Okay, I wasn't watching at all and learning about offense like I should be. No, I was reading a book that I was thoroughly enjoy until that giant of a brother totally punched his opponent too hard and made blood fly. And, of course, my being right there made me perfectly in the way of the discarded blood, the red liquid splattering on my fingers and legs. I could see the poor victim now, standing aside holding his gushing broken nose and freaking out about it not stopping. Thor looks at and shrugs.

Sighing, I put down the leatherbound book and cross over the wounded man. On my way, I hold out my long fingers and wipe the blood on Thor's red cape, figuring he couldn't possibly mind a little prize for his violence. I tell the man to stay still and then snap the bone in place, saying a minor incantation to stop the flow of blood. Honestly, these men need to face the blood rationally. I roll my eyes.

"Thanks," the _warrior _says to me as I start walking away.

"Yeah, fuck you," I murmur, stalking past Thor.

Why am I out here again? Oh yeah! That document of mine I worked so hard on came across as incorrect so Father said I have to spend more time in combat than in the library. I hope he doesn't actually believe I'm going to willingly learn how to fight. Why would I need to? I know a fair deck of spells and they seem to always come in handy when I'm trying to escape a beating from Thor.

"Come on, Loki, you next," Thor calls. _Are you fucking kidding me?_

"No, thank you, Brother, I just ate," I decline.

"Ah, yes, Loki. Three hours after eating is certainly too soon for excerising! No, seriously, come here," Thor says. Sighing in exasperation, he walks to me and grabs hold of my shirt collar, pulling me up onto my feet. The last opponent just left.

"No magic this time, Brother. Just brute strength," Thor tells me, getting into position. I stand across from him.

He counts off and then charges at me and I slip aside just before he can touch me. This all reminds me of those games the mortals hold in which the try to defeat a bull by dodging it unless it is tired out. Maybe I can get a hold of Thor's red cape just to make it official...

While I laugh softly to myself, Thor runs up to me, and I dodge once more. Finally he just comes and towers over me, not attacking, just standing there like he's trying to figure out what I am before he strikes. My eyes wide in fear of his sheer size, I slowly back up, my hands protectively in front of me. An apologetic look on his face, the Golden Prince lifts a fist and strikes me hard in my jaw, knocking me back several paces before I collapse under the strength. I sit up, slightly dizzy, and proceed to my feet, not wanting to back down yet. It's far too soon.

Thor stares at me, disbelieving that I have bothered to try again, when usually I just complain about my being wounded and then slip out of the area. But I _want_ to feel the pain. I_ want _to personify my deep hurt from Father's rejection in this. We are acting out that scene physically in my mind, Thor being Father, and that is not hard to imagine. I purse my lips and tighten my fingers into a fist, my anger flooding back into my veins.

How can I forget the nights I have spent crying in bed instead of sleeping? How many times I have looked at Thor seated beside Father while I must sit with the others? I cannot erase the memories of how Father has always given Thor so many wonderful gifts, while I recieve only some thin book on how to be good at fighting, things that I was give to Thor in the end. I recognise my place, in the background, letting this anger build in me.

Now glaring harshly at Thor, I raise my hands and run at the confused soul, screaming in fury. I jump so as to reach his height, my hands pressed palm out to his shoulders, as I use all of my force to knock him backwards. I may not be as strong as him, but I am not weak, and I certainly got him by surprise. When has little Loki ever fought back? Never, and it's time I start to.

Thor falls back, caught unaware and totally distracted by my sudden fury to notice I was actually attacking him. I land on his chest, my knees drawn up so that I am above him, in perfect position to wring his neck out and kill him. But I know to stop here.

Panting heavily, I sit back, but then Thor _reacts_! He grabs me by the collar again and throws me off him with raw force! I am airborn for a few minutes and then crash against the cement, sliding back several more feet. I can feel my ribs crack and break, hear my skull resonate a sickening sound as it connects with the hard ground, and I can definitely sense that my body is starting to bruise in several places. _Ouch_!

"Loki!" Mother calls, rushing out from the shadows to kneel down beside me.

Odin has accompanied her, so I get the all so great pleasure of having to stare up at his mocking blue eyes. Thor runs up to me as Mother pulls me onto her lap, calling for the servants to get me to the Healing Room.

"I am sorry, Brother, I just didn't expect it would be you to attack me. I didn't mean it," Thor apologizes. He walks at Mother's side as the servants carry me to the Healing Room, but my vision is already fading and soon I slip out of consciousness. There was nothing much to say anyway.

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><p>I try to sit up but cringe immediately. Eir, the Healing Goddess, places a gentle hand on my ribs and eases me back. Thor, slumped over in slumber beside me, jerks awake at Eir's telling me to relax. Usually Thor is a heavy sleeper, waking up only after great effort from the intruder, so I am shocked that he has snapped awake so easily. He must have been waiting for me.<p>

"Loki, you musn't put too much stress on your body right now," Eir tells me, more sternly than I assume she meant to.

"What all has been broken, Lady Eir?" I ask, lifting a hand to carefully prod at my ribs.

"Well, you certainly have some ribs broken and cracked, your skull certainly got damage, and your left ankle is broken," Eir tells me.

"Oh, great. How much time will it take to heal of this?" I ask, sighing in frustration. "And did someone grab my book?"

"It will take at least a week before you are able to walk," the goddess answers. I throw my head back in exasperation. At least I get to be in my own room.

"Loki, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," Thor starts.

"My book, damn it! Where is it?" I ask again.

"Why do you need a book? No, look, come on, Loki, can you forgive me for this?" he waves off.

"Shut _up_, Thor. I know you didn't mean it. Just get the book I had when we were outside," I order.

"But you haven't forgiven me," Thor whimpers. _Yggdrasil _that boy is foolish.

"Thor, get my book," I say montonously. I'll just wait it out until he listens.

"Brother!" he whines.

"Thor, shut up! You have nothing to be sorry about. Now _get my book_!" I yell at him, sitting up. I wince slightly at the pain but I otherwise ignore the pain. "It's Father's fault that I got hurt."

"Really? Please elaborate, Loki," Father asks of me from the door.

"Because you made me go out there and fight! I didn't want to, I told you that! Come on, Father, I'm not as strong as Thor!" I shout at him, absolutely ready to jump out of bed even though my chest hurts so much that I can't understand why I haven't blacked out yet.

"It was for your own good," Father answers, nonchalantly.

"My own good? Yes, Father, fighting Thor only to wound up bed, hurt, for nothing. I don't learn anything when we do these fights. I know how to survive with magic, you need to put faith in that because that's the only area I'm good at," I shoot at him.

"You need to learn how to fight physically. You are disgracing me by not knowing how to fight, son," he responds, bluntly.

"Well, I'm sorry I can't be what you want me to be and a disgrace besides. I'm sorry I can't be perfect," I whisper.

Tears burning in my green eyes, I do get to my feet, ignoring my sore ribs and wounded ankle. My head down, I limp to the door, squeezing past Father. I quickly put a spell of invisibility on myself and continue, trying to keep as quiet as can but finding it difficult considering I practically I have to drag one leg.

"Loki! Get back here, you will only damage yourself even more!" Eir calls after me.

"I don't care," I respond, not really minding that she now knows what direction I'm heading in.

"And if one of your ribs comes loose again and hurts you internally? Loki, you do not get the severity of your wounds!"

"Then if I die it will be a good thing according to my father," I throw back at her.

Her voice is silent then and I bother not to turn back, I keep going. Slowly, I finally make it outside, back to the Training area where I left my book. I walk past many fighting warriors in the bright morning sun, but cloaked in my spells, no one notices me. It is a relief when I fall against the tree that I was leaning against when I was last here. My book still sits here, unnoticed by illiterate fools. I prod at my ribs again, whispering spells to keep together my fragile bones, mending them. It hurts.

I can't understand why Father said anything to me. Why does he bother? I am so obviously not his favourite! And how does Thor not notice this? He cannot be that innocent, but I suppose he could be that thick. What a fool.

I pick up my book, for if I am to be in my exile for now, I might as well do something I enjoy than be miserable. There is no point in me watching the warriors, I know the weak spots, I just don't care to engage. What would be the point?

And it's not like I _didn't _know I was a disgrace. I did know. But I was not blessed with strength like Thor, I was blessed with cleverness and wisdom. I thought Father treasured those things! I thought I was doing right. I thought he could at least be happy for me about that. Apparently not.

"Brother?" a voice calls. How did he find me? Then again, I was complaining about my book the whole time he sat there next to me.

"Loki isn't here, Thor. You should know that. He's too _fragile _to be outside," Sif mocks, passing Thor by.

He shrugs and glances around anyway. Losing focus, I accidentally let the invisibility spell slip and am suddenly spotted by my elder brother. He runs over to me, grinning that he has won this little game of hide-and-seek. I sigh, putting down my book.

"Found my book, _finally_," I smirk.

"Brother, you cannot be out here. You heard what Lady Eir said!" Thor scolds me, kneeling down next to me.

"I cannot go back to face Father. He has cost me enough sadness for one day."

"Yeah, that was pretty harsh of him," Thor agrees, nodding solemnly. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's not your fault that I'm unsatisfactory in strength," I shrug, looking down.

"But you're great in all that other stuff. I mean, I need Mjollnir to do anything in that skill, and Father needs Gungnir. You're the only one in this family that is talented in something so complex or can sneak himself out so fairly. Only you have been able to fix most of the stuff I damage and all the scholars are amazed. I just happen to be stronger than some of the other Aesir, and I think that is because of Mjollnir," Thor assures me.

"Thank you, Brother," I say.

"May I ask, though, why you never even try in physical feats?" Thor asks me.

"Look at me, Brother. One knock down and I have to stay in bed for a week. My body was born uncapable of fighting heavily. That's why I have to use magic," I explain sadly, grimacing.

"That's why you use magic? I just thought you were unimpressed by physical fighting."

"Please, I don't think sword fighting is _that _bad, but I have little chance at a lot of physical stuff. Magic is the one thing I excel in."

"I wander why. I mean, Mother and Father are both capable of fighting."

"Maybe I get it from some forgotten uncle," I smile.

"I don't know, Uncle Vili and Uncle Ve seem pretty strong to me," Thor responds.

"Shut up, Thor," I say, deadpan.

"Loki! There you are!" Lady Eir shouts, hands on hips. "Teleport yourself back to your room _right now_!"

I chuckle softly at her anger. With one look at Thor, I whisper the words and disappear into my room. No one is there, and smiling to myself and pick up a book, my mind racing with what tricks I can start pulling once I get back on my feet.

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><p><em>So, if you haven't noticed: Odin-bad to Loki; Frigga-comforting;Loki-misunderstood and sad;Thor-the lost puppy who makes Loki feel better. Basically, I follow that format considering that's how I saw the movie. Sorry if this sounds overwhelmingly like the last chapter.<em>


	3. Fire

The day that I was injured due to Thor's reflexes was also Mother's birthday. Considering her worrying over me was not exactly the best birthday present, we decided to celebrate the following week when I could walk again with little trouble. So when I woke up early on the following Saturday, I got up immediately, which I usually don't do since I love reading when I first wake up.

Donning my green and silver clothing, I comb back my hair and then exit my bedroom. Remembering what Father says, I take off down the hall towards my brother's chambers. Making my way through the grandoise way, I notice the lack of servants, though the guards still hold their place. I figure the absent must be tending to preparing the room we shall dine in, for Father ordered our personal family dining room to be especially rich today. I do not blame him, for Mother makes a fine queen and wife.

Quietly slipping into Thor's bedroom, I am assaulted at once by his snoring and grunting. Wincing at the sudden noise after all the silence, I stiffen and continue to his bedside. I smirk at his slightly tanned face, his jaw slacking in his sleep. I have no idea how he could possibly stay asleep on such an important day. I reach out my hand and close his mouth, wishing not to see his drool anymore. He does not seem to even notice the intrusion so I continue on to clamp his lips completely together with one hand and pinch his nose with the other, cutting off his supply of air.

I wait as slowly Thor notices the sudden blockage. His blonde eyebrows furrow and I can feel his nose twitch under my black fingernails. His heartbeat quickens in fright and I assume he must be awake now. He opens his crystal blue eyes abruptly and looks around in confusion, starting to turn red from lack of oxygen. His eyes widen as he sees the sight of me and swiftly pulls me off of him with his rather large hands, catching my dainty ones in his.

"Brother, what is the meaning of this? Why do you try to kill me in my sleep?" Thor asks, sitting up. His eyebrows are still furrowed.

"Please, Thor, I have no wish to kill you - yet. Nay, I needed to wake you up in a manner that shall not take several hours, and this was the only way I knew how," I defend, smirking ever so slightly at my hidden jests.

"Oh! Right, today is Mother's birthday! Thank you, Loki, for waking me," Thor grins. He apparently had not noticed my insults.

"Well, prepare yourself, Brother. I shall go get my own gift to Mother, so meet me in the hall," I say stiffly, making my way around Thor's mess of room and going back into the hall.

I go back to my own room, relishing in the refound silence. I eye the soundless guards, making one of the new ones squirm under my dark gaze. Facing my green adorned room, I look across the space and then cross over to my closet. Standing on the tips of my toes, I reach up and snag the wrapped box from the top shelf. I smile down at the silver box, proud that I was able to make this while in bed resting. I had pooled together what magic I knew and made Mother the perfect gift. I simply cannot wait for her to see it!

After some time Thor meets me in the hall and we walk down the way together. I clutch my present tightly to my chest, feeling a gentle warmth radiating from it, while next to me Thor cannot help but yawn often, showing his obvious discomfort in waking so early. I roll my eyes and ignore him, blocking out his noises and instead turning my mind to the gentle silence that has blanketed Asgard. Many still sleep, but Father wishes to please Mother to the best of our abilities, so he has told us to join Mother in the gardens today and give her company.

It is my first day back on my feet so I falter several times, catching me by surprise for my movements have always been so fluid and well planned. Whenever I trip, though, Thor always catches me, steadying me and keeping by my side after that to make sure there is no more mishap. There is no pain in these movements, but I definitely feel oddly weak, so when we get to the gardens and stand next to Mother, I let my balance cave in and I collapse onto the grassy ground.

As I catch most of the impact on my elbows, Thor starts to reach out but misses me by seconds, and Mother jerks her head up. I try to catch my breath while Mother picks up her skirts and creeps over next to me, catching my head in her hands and supporting my back with her knees. I breathe a sigh of relief and wrap my arms around my mother's neck, smiling slightly at her protectiveness.

"Happy late birthday, Mother, dear," I whisper. She smiles back at me.

Thor chooses this moment to interrupt, of course. He gives out a cry and pulls Mother into a tight embrace, catching me up along with it. Tilting my head down so I can dodge most of the impact, I slip out of the knot, looking around the garden when I am free. It is only the three of us and the guards, that could not care less about what is going on.

"Mother, where is Father? Has he been called to a meeting?" I ask, my eyebrows raised. But this question only makes the blonde queen let go of Thor and furrow her eyebrows.

"He is...unable...to make it this morning. Some issues have risen in Nidavellir that he must tend to. He cannot even promise he shall make it to dinner," Mother sighs, sorrowful.

"I am sorry, Mother," say Thor and I in unison. We both kneel down and place a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. Our birthdays are the only time we spend with each other, and now Mother's has been ruined twice: once by Thor and me and once by Father. How terrible for her!

"Would you like to open your gifts now, then, Mother? It might make you feel better," I suggest gently, snatching up mine from the ground.

"Oh, yes, come Mother, you must!" Thor exclaims. He digs in his pocket and holds out a small wooden box, grinning. "Open mine first, Mother."

"Well, alright, you two. Honestly, you two alone will spoil me!" she giggles.

"You can never be spoiled, Mother, for you deserve every last treasure you own," I tell her, working my silver tongue, though this is the truth.

She blushes in humiliation and then takes up Thor's. I do not blame her for taking his gift first, for he was shoving it under her nose the whole time. But I really would have liked to have mine opened first. The best is saved for last, I suppose?

Removing the small, wooden lid, she opens the box and peers in. She squeals in delight, sounding so young, and picks up a chain with her long, slender fingers. I peer closer and see that Thor has somehow managed to get her a thin gold chain and upon the end hangs a wooden carving of a leaf, painted green and gold. He had to have had help on this gift, but it is suited for the queen, for she relishes anything related to her gardens. This she shall be able to keep forever.

"I had to obtain the chain from others, but I made the wooden leaf myself, Mother," Thor boasts. He leans behind her and kisses her upon the cheek. Does he compete with me? I raise my eyebrow ever so slightly. No one will notice.

"Well, it is beautiful either way, Thor. Thank you kindly for this gift, my son. I will wear it from now on, I promise," she cooes, tying the chain around her neck and fingering the delicate leaf.

"Here, Mother, mine next," I say, sitting back on my knees and handing her the silver box.

"How about this, Loki. Tonight when your Father comes to dinner, we shall show him Thor's present to me, and then you shall present yours so Father can see it. How about that, Loki?" she suggests. "You two are spoiling me, I swear!"

"Yes, Mother, sounds like a plan," I nod, keeping my face masked as a smile. So Thor comes first. Typical. Whatever. "Here, let me help you with that, Mother."

I lean over to the rose bush Mother was working on and take up the small metal scissors that she was using to cut the stems. I snip off a nearby silver leaf and hold it up to the bright sun, making the light fall onto the small plant and gleam beautifully. I take Thor's leaf necklace in my hand and press the silver leaf against the wood work, gently, and whisper incantations.

"There, Mother. It shall feel and look exactly as it did before, but now it shall give off the perfume of your rose bush," I smile. Next to me Thor looks slightly enraged by my tampering with his gift. "No offense against you, of course, Thor. But should we not work together to give Mother the best birthday she has ever had?"

"Oh, my birthdays shall always be the best when you two are there," she says.

She strokes the necklace, taking in the new scent of the wood. Thor looks almost appalled at my work, confused on rather to be angry at me or happy that I made his gift even better. In response I simply leaned over, cut off one of the golden rose and entwined it into Mother's silvering hair. It certainly helps being Mommy's Little Boy. I tend to get my way when it comes to emotional matters with her.

While Thor carries the basket of gardening tools, Mother and I go along the many plants in the garden, cutting off several and placing them in a basket for the servants to take to the dining room later and spread around the table. Mother loves the idea of having newly bloomed flowers in our home, there to give off their wonderful set and present their beautiful appearance. I quite agree. And what makes this better is that Thor hates this kind of work, believing it was designed for women only. He has no idea.

"How do you do it?" Thor asks, lying beside me on the grass under the shade. It was nearing dinner time and we had had a full day of spending time with Mother, helping her with gardening and other such activites. We were about to go in but Mother wished to see the sunset first, so we complied.

"Do what?" I shoot back, a bit coldly. I have no wish to hear what he has to say now, not when I could be enjoying this blood red sunset.

"Get along so well with the women folk. I mean, many of the maidens of Asgard flirt with me because I'm the prince. But you understand Mother and the others, their problems, in such a way that I do not understand. You are not a woman yourself, are you Loki?" Thor asks. He better be joking at the end. He better be.

"Of course you do not understand them, Brother," I start gently, leaning my head back in my hands. "You think with your muscles and strength, but ladies are more delicate and prefer to think with their conscious, taking mental problems over physical. Do you get me, Brother?"

"Yes, Loki, kind of. I understand that mentally you are a lady," Thor chuckles. I glare at him.

"Why are we having this discussion?" I growl through my teeth.

"Because I need you there whenever my own future wife has problems. Perhaps you shall be her top lady friend and translate her words over into guy talk for me."

"All right, enough, Thor. You must not bother your brother just because he thinks more sensibly," Mother scolds, extinguishing the fight.

I wait, watching Thor's expression carefully out of the corner of my eye. No, he did not catch the insult. Amusing.

"My queen, supper is ready in your private dining room. The king, Odin, shall be there as well," a servant tells us, standing stiffly and then leaving after delivering the message.

"Well, come on then," Mother says, putting the last of her gardening tools in a basket.

Thor stands up and groans, stretching his long limbs. As he stands up, I grab on tightly to his wrist and use him as means to stand up, letting go when my feet touch the ground. I turn and help Mother up, taking the basket for her. She tries to wave me off, of course, and I comply since she can full well take care of herself. We simply follow in Thor's steps and make our way to the dining room.

"Ah, there you three are," Father breathes, smiling at Mother. "Shall we commence celebrating such a joyous occasion, love?"

We sit and have dinner first, as is the custom for those who think with their stomach. Mother tells Father that she would most appreciate if he and Thor would not drink alchohol on such an occassion, and I am surprised to find that they manage not to. After supper, we go to an adjoining parlour where there is a fireplace and plenty of resting places. Father and my brother immediately fall back onto the two sofas nearest the fireplace. Once they take up their roost and Mother and I find seating on the nearby armchairs, Father questions of our presents to Mother.

"Oh, Odin, Thor made me this lovely necklace with the leaf. And Loki put a spell on it to have the scents of my rose bush out in the gardens," Mother says, letting the Allfather finger the delicate wood.

"Ah, splendid job there, son. I did not know that you could work wood," Father praises.

"Well, after our smith taught me how simple it could be, I had no trouble," Thor brags.

"And, Loki, what be your gift to your most beautiful mother?" Father asks, raising an eyebrow. He's frowning now, wandering what I could possibly present, but there is still the ghost of a smile on his lips from pride over Thor.

"Well, come, see," I invite.

I pull a small, round coffee table into the middle of the room and take the silver box from my pocket, placing it carefully on the dark furniture piece. Mother stands and comes up next to me and soon the Allfather and Thor join us at the table. Mother carefully lifts the lid and peers in, leaving room for the rest of us to see into the dark crevice. I take a candle and illuminate the interior of the box, letting them see the present clearly.

"What trick is this, Loki? Why do you present your mother with only a box of ashes?" Father asks me.

"It is not just a box of ashes, Father. Just watch, it shall rise from the ashes soon," I whisper calmly.

"What shall rise, Loki?" Thor questions.

"Be patient, Brother." I held up my finger so to tell them to be patient and wait, staring down at the ashes myself.

Then, just as Thor is about to sit back down, two bright eyes open from the midst of grey. There is a soft chirp, and slowly a small bird rises from the ashes that I placed in the box so delicately. It shakes it's body, freeing itself from the ashes. And as we stare down at the little fledgling, I smile smugly as the others gasp in amazement, for in that moment the bird bloomed into a harmless flame and flew aloft with new red feathers in place. It took flight through the air, the fire upon it's feathers dancing merrily and small, gleeful chirps escaping from it's golden beak.

"Call it to your hand, Mother. It shall come to you, and it will not harm you at all," I instruct the queen. She follows my simple instructions and soon the dainty bird is perched upon her finger, nuzzling her hand gingerly with it's bright, head crest.

"Okay, Loki, what is that thing?" Father asks me wearily.

"It is a phoenix, Father, quite a rare bird. When it dies it becomes ashes, and from the ashes it is reborn. Sometimes it can become quite attached to someone who treats it fairly," I tell them, stroking the alight feathers of the creature.

"So it cannot hurt Frigga, right? And where did you get it anyway?" he presses.

"No, it will harm no one unless they have malicious intent," I start.

"Oh, so why does it not bite you, then, Brother?" Thor jokes before I can continue. I shoot him a glare.

"And I came across the spell to have one rise from the ashes in an old book I found in the library. I thought such a loyal and never dying companion would fit Mother just perfectly."

"Ah, yes, well, a fine job you did on that, son," the Allfather tells me awkwardly. "Just don't get too much into this magic stuff, or you might end up in some serious trouble, Loki."

I narrow my eyes. Thor gets the compliment full of pride and I get the uneasy one followed by a warning. How sweet.

"What shall you name it, Mother?" I ask curiously, petting it's beak gently.

"How about Sol?" she suggests.

"Yes, Sol fits it perfectly, Mother. A beautiful name for the fire bird," I agree, nodding my head.

"So does the bird do anything?" Thor asks, questioning rather it is useful or not.

"Yes. It will come to it's master's aide whenever they need it," I answer.

"Must be a smart bird," Thor mumbles, and then goes to join Father at the fireplace.

"Yes, my genius bird from my genius son. Thank you, Loki," Mother smiles, kissing me on the cheek. I blush slightly from the attention.

As I draw my head up again, the bird suddenly leaps from Mother's outstretched hand and flutters away. I watch, gaping, as the fire bird steals out the window and heads to where some of the other's halls are. It must have sensed something that Mother wanted.

"Where is it going?" Thor asks absently.

"Loki, I swear, if it causes any harm to others...," Father vaguely threats.

"Mother, did you ask for it to fetch something for you?" I ask, ignoring the others.

"Perhaps I did, subconsciously. Wait, is it coming back?" Mother answers.

We walk to the window and peer out towards where the bird was heading, and sure enough the red creature was coming nearer, with something in it's claw. As it flew in the window, it dropped something into the queen's hands and then came to rest next to the fire, curious.

"What is it, Frigga?" Father asks, stepping closer.

"It's the necklace that I've been looking for. It's been missing. I wander what it was doing out in the streets of Asgard," Mother answers, amused.

"It looked like it came from Freyja's Hall, Mother," I say, smirking. If anyone here has the care to get mad at the Fertility Goddess for stealing such a precious treasure, I shall count it as my revenge against the woman. I swear, she is totally out to get me.

"Yes, well, we will settle all of that tomorrow," Father says, glancing at me. I raise my eyebrows in innocence.

"Yeah, that bird will be useful," Thor grins. His facial expression concerns me.

"Hush, Thor, Sol shall only be used for beneficial things. Come, my friend, I believe it is time I go to bed," Mother says.

"Yes, it is getting rather late. Goodnight, my sons," Father says, and then exits the room after we reply.

"Thank you for the presents and spending the day with me, dear ones. Have sweet dreams," Mother says, following Father.

After the last light of Sol had disappeared down the hall, Thor and I walk down to where our rooms are situated. After we parted, I briefly saw Thor taking a swig from a bottle of mead before entering his room. I figured as much.

With that I waved out the light of the candles and fell asleep, smiling after having the best day I have had in over a week.


	4. Sigyn

**A/N: Sorry, this chapter seems so short to me, but it is happy, so everything is fine, yes? Anyway, we meet Loki's future wife, Sigyn, Goddess of Faithfulness and all that stuff. She is personally one of my favourite Norse mythology characters, she's so sweet. Anyway, enjoy and please review!**

The green leaves above me rustled gently in the morning breeze, casting shadows onto the soft grass where previously had been golden patches of sunlight. The air was warm and gentle, silent, as I crept up to a shady apple tree, laden with the bright red fruit ready to fall in the impending Autumn, not too far away. Carefully stepping over a small patch of little, white flowers, I fell back against the trunk of the tree and nestled down between two thick roots, picking up my leather bound book and propping it up against my knees. Peace at last, and I was going to enjoy every second of it.

"Loki! What are you doing here alone, brother?" Thor suddenly interrupted, his blonde head peering around the thick trunk of a tree in front of me.

No! I picked this spot quite a ways into the orchards of our palace gardens and he _still_ finds me, just to ask of my social life! Why? Why must I be interrupted when everything has been planned so perfectly, so discreetly? Are Sif and his warrior friends not enough?

"Brother, I wanted to be _alone_. Why do you pester me?" I whined, eyebrows creased in obvious disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Loki. I just wanted to know why you never seem to have any friends. I shall leave now," Thor apologized, looking _so_ guilty.

"It's all right, Thor!" I called after him, feeling awful myself for snapping. I cannot help but believe that he _does_ care. But by the time the sound had carried out from between my lips, he had already taken off.

Sighing, because even though I told him I wished to be alone, I know he _will _be back, I picked up my book and take off, away from the palace gardens where I could still hear Thor and his friends laughing. My mood had been broken and I did not wish to read so much anymore, but I _did _still want to be alone, so I shifted through my mind the locations in Asgard where it is the most peaceful. The palace gardens were now out of the question, I did not wish to be kept inside that day, and I did not wish to be somewhere so dark as in the forest surrounding our home realm, but there had always been one place, almost out of my reach, that was favourable.

I rarely go to the beach surrounding Asgard because the ocean always distracts me from whatever book I was currently infatuated with, but that is just the thing that I needed - something to take my mind off normal life. I had been there before and know that Njord's palace, Noatun, rests on the rocks at the top of the slope rushing down to meet the waves, but the foreign Vanir king is nice, I have met him before, and he surely would not deny my admiring the ocean upon his property.

Wounding my way down Asgard's paved roads, I thought over what little I truly did know of Njord, for to me, he had always seemed so distant from us Aesir. He was a part of a deal to ensure peace between Vanaheim and Asgard, so he cannot harm me, and he brought his twin children, Freyr and, unfortunately, Freyja. He's a sea deity, so you have to respect him, and he's well learned in the lore of magic, but besides from him fathering Freyja, there is nothing I have against the old king.

My realization of this ebbing away any prior doubts I had of Njord, I stepped up onto a dark grey rock at the crest of the hill lithely. A thin path runs down the rocky slope and at the bottom there is a thin strip of sand, still dry for the tide is still not too inland. In the distant I could see the rainbow bride where Heimdall stands, following it to the horizon where the clear, smooth sea meets the horizon. Startled by the sudden grey of sky, I looked up and noticed that it has now become overcast, as it tends to do when one is close to the water. The air was so golden before back in Asgard, as though it were a thin layer scraped from the sun, but here the air around me shined with a silver mist, so much like the moon. Sitting down on one of the flat rocks at the base of the slope, near the water's edge, I looked on in amazement at the drastic change of scenery. It was breathtaking.

Sighing in relief to just have this gentle quiet and a place to rest my weary mind, I lowered myself down onto the sandy ground and leaned up against the rock, my eyes closed. A cool breeze rustled my hair gingerly, feeling so much like when Mother smooths down my mane when it becomes unruly. And, oh, how _brilliant_ it felt to let time stop around me! Smiling to myself when I realized how still it seemed around there, I drifted off to a light sleep, the sound of the waves lapping up against the rising sand making a beautiful background noise to my dreams of sweet nothing, warm oblivion.

"Sir, are you well?" a concerned voice suddenly said. I jumped, opening my eyes.

Sitting up and looking around, still shocked, I slowly remembered where I was. The light was only slightly darker, so I must have been asleep for about an hour, but the scene of gentle water and grey sky was still the same. I rubbed my eyes and looked around to see where the abrupt, feminine-sounding voice came from, finding the mark off my right almost immediately.

A small girl, maybe a year younger than me, was peering down at me, eyes wide. She had the palest blonde hair falling down her back, pin straight and to her waist, and the widest, chocolate brown eyes I had ever seen. Her shoulders were narrow and she was so thin! Her cheekbones stood out gravely in her hollow, pale face. She blinked slowly, showing long eyelashes, and shifted her weight slightly, her pale blue dress swaying with the svelte movement. About her neck was a golden necklace, a small rose clasped on the end. The maiden certainly had a gentle beauty that I had never before seen in Asgard. So innocent and caring and _right_.

"I am well, fair maiden. Might I ask for your name?" I asked, as courteous as I was capable of.

"I am relieved to hear that, sir. I am Sigyn, foster-daughter of Njord. You are Prince Loki, yes?" she said. Her voice was low and sweet, so shy.

"Yes, that is right. Well, I am pleased to meet you Sigyn Njorddottir. I hope that I have not disturbed you?" I questioned, using a statement so not to sound rude. I would _not_ let this maiden think ill of me.

"Oh, no, sir. Please excuse me," she whispered, dropping to her knees when she had my confirmation.

"Rise, Sigyn. There is no need to bow in _my _presence," I commanded her, shaking me head in disgust at the act of which those lower than me are taught. Especially since she was a Vanir.

"Do you wish to come in for food and refreshment, my Prince? My father would be most pleased to greet you," she invited, standing up shakily and smoothing out her blue dress.

"Nay, Sigyn, I am fine. But, do, sit. Please tremble not in my presence. We are equal, are we not?" I smiled. I _never_ denied my pride, until that moment, when I simply wanted her to be comfortable in my presence. "So you are daughter to Njord. What's it like to live with Freyja? I mean, I can't stand her for an _hour_ in court. Surely she cannot be as dreadful as she makes herself appeart to be, right?"

"Oh, no, she _can_ be nice...as long as you're showering her with fine jewels and compliments of how lovely her hair is!" Sigyns laughed, her shallow voice suddenly ringing so bright with mirth and merriment. Joining her laugh, I patted the ground next to me and thoroughly rejoiced when she accepted my offer and leaned back against the rock next to me.

"I figured as much!" I cried, knowing what Freyja would do if she ever found out about my words against her. It just made it all the more enjoyable to me.

"Ah, but I am in luck, for usually she stays in her own hall. She seems to be weary of Njord, for she never comes around anymore," Sigyn sighed. I stopped laughing immediately when she said this so sadly.

"Well, there is always Freyr, and he is quite pleasant," I tried to comfort her.

"Oh, so true, Prince Loki," she nodded.

"Two special rules for you, my lady: you must not bow just for _me_ and you will _not_ call me 'Prince Loki'. Just 'Loki' would be fine, Sigyn," I told her.

"Right, of course. So what brings you here anyway, Loki?"

"I wanted peace and this was the first thing that came to mind that sounded pleasant. Wait, did you say that Njord is your _adoptive_ father?" I suddenly realized.

"Yes, we do not truly know who my real parents are, I fear. You know, I never tell anyone this, I usually start to cry, but I get such a wonderful energy vibe coming from you. I do not know what the Aesir are so suspicious of, you seem so _nice_. I shall tell you, Loki, but you must keep this secret."

"Of course, Sigyn. I won't tell a soul," I reassured her, grimacing. "And I'm absolutely thrilled that you think me nice. Most people say that I'm just dreadful to be around. So, thank you."

"Thank me not for what is the truth. And, well, I was abandoned as a child, before memory, and Njord took me in, raised me as his own. He told me that I am probably the cross-breed of a Jotunn and Aesir, but I do not seem what's so wrong with that. The Jotunn's may be tricky, but doesn't that also mean that they are _clever_ and _wise_? I do not get it, I wish _not_ to get why the Aesir do not favour the Jotunns. But I do not mind, I suppose, though I must accept that no suitors shall accept me when I try to get a husband. No one shall want me," Sigyn said softly, a clear tear slipping from her deep, brown eyes as she said the last bit.

"That's not true!" I abruptly exclaimed, taken aback on how she could think so _poorly_ about herself. "_I _would be the happiest fool in the world to take someone so sweet as you. Just wait, Sigyn, for someday you shall be accepted into the court and will be a valued member and everyone will admire your blonde hair and doe eyes and _want_ you. Don't you worry, dear Sigyn, things shall always turn out right after some waiting and patience. Please do not weep. I've only known you five minutes and I consider you a great friend of mine _already_."

"Thank you, Loki," she smiled, falling silent afterwards.

I wiped away her tears, did not let her forget my words. Always stood behind her. Never left her. Forever supporting her. I will _not_ leave.

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><p>Now, I have the most beautiful maiden in the nine realms. I waited and comforted her through all of the rejections, and now she has claimed me, turned to me and has been there ever since. Now in the time where I now I, too, am half-Jotunn, it is her that I've turned to in comfort. Not everything is a sorrow.<p> 


	5. Magic

**A/N: It's been almost a year since I started this story. I'm so sorry I haven't updated, but it was quite a trouble to continue this after the last chapter. It ended so well. But, here's more about Sigyn. I actually got something decent up.**

* * *

><p>Tapping my feet lightly against the floor, I sit back in my desk chair and clutch my history book and theses. Sigyn sits lithely on the desk in front of me, her doe eyes watching me curiously. She bends down and takes my theses – the same document that my father mocked so boldly – and started scanning the words.<p>

Sigyn comes to our palace or I go to Njord's often and in those times we have become best friends. I have dined with Njord and Freyr before and both accept me, wholly pleased and welcoming of my presence. I've grown to think of them as family. And Sigyn has met my mother and Thor – though I try to keep her away from Thor – and both of them like her quite well. My father, however, has refused to meet her, saying I should be training instead of focusing my energy on an orphaned girl. For this, my mother has apologized several times.

"These are good. Why did Odin reject them?" Sigyn asks me quietly.

"_Loki, never question the power of the gods because we're greater than you and you're insignificant_," I imitate, exaggerating the words of my father.

"Loki…," Sigyn starts, giving me a frightened glance. She is always so frightened by my speaking ill of the Allfather. She fears him just like everyone else.

"Come on, Sigyn, he never pays attention to me anyway," I object, rolling my eyes.

"But, Loki, he hears _everything_," she whispers.

"Then let him! The only thing he's listening to is Thor and his friends fighting. I can guarantee that."

"I still don't trust this."

I give an exasperated sigh and, placing the history book down, cross over to the large window next to my dark wood desk. Sigyn hops lightly off the desk and joins me at the window, watching me with wide eyes as I glass over the scene in front of us. In front of us is quite the display, for I have sight of the fighting grounds and part of mother's orchard. And down there, strutting around the grounds is Thor, his head held up high and his posture as straight as can be, the cocky fool. Even though his eyes are closed, he swings his sword out in front of him, scattering the various warriors in front of him. Standing in the shade of some of the trees surrounding the grounds are fawning maidens, watching Thor as though he were some prize.

"Disgusting," I mutter to Sigyn.

"He _does_ like attention," she adds nervously.

"Why are you so quiet?" I ask her.

"Freyja never liked me speaking much."

"But Njord and Freyr always let you have your say," I object, shaking my head.

"But they are not _Freyja_. They expect me to be like her when I'm older, such a strong voice, but she is not pleased with me," the blonde maiden explains, her voice hollow.

"Like how it is between Odin and me?"

"Yes."

I snatch her hand at that mournful confirmation and stare down at the trees in silence. I knew that even in this silence, her mind was racing, brimming with whatever memories she had of her being rejected. To be abandoned by her original parents and then rejected by her role model must be terrible. I cannot imagine that. And as the hollow silence remains dominant over us, she draws closer to me.

She caught me in surprise then. For, breaking the silence with a frail cry, she burrowed herself into my chest, her shoulders tense as if to ward it all away. My eyebrows furrowing, I wrap my arms around her and raise her chin so that I can see her eyes.

"Sigyn, what's wrong?" I ask, for I have never seen her so upset.

"Loki you should know, you've gone through some of the same things I have. Doesn't it all infect your mind, too?" she hiccups, tears slowly starting to stain her pale face.

"Immensely, I understand," I nod, pulling her closer to me. But what do you say in this situation? You can't just ignore the disappointment in you of those whose approval you most crave, most desire. To ignore such is a defense neither of us was born with.

I just stand here, looking blindly out the window, pondering all of this, but Sigyn has pulled herself together. All of the tear stains have been dried up and, though her wide eyes are still shiny and bright, one would never suspect that she had just been crying. She stands up on her tiptoes and tilts my head forward gently, making eye contact with me. Ever so slightly, she smiles, trying to wake me up from this pale world I have fallen into.

"Come on, Loki, back to the theses. This is why I'm here," she reminds me, cocking her head.

I numbly nod, letting her grasp my hand and pull me back over to the desk. Smirking, she playfully pushes me back into my chair and then hopping back onto the desk, the dress she's wearing settling nicely to her feminine features. Smiling to myself now, I lean back in my chair.

"Tell me, little doe, how do you manage to be so sweet even though you are probably half-Jotunn and Aesir?" I ask, meaning no harm.

"Maybe the combining brutality from both sides contradicts each other and makes someone actually decent to talk to," she shrugs.

"Hm, perhaps," I laugh.

"So, what did your father say to your statement about the mortals again?" she asks, peering down at my neat writing.

"That Loki has no business questioning my actions," someone says from my door way, making both Sigyn and me jump.

"Allfather!" Sigyn cries, jumping off of my desk and bowing like she has been taught to. I grimace at the forced display.

"You? _You_ are the orphan Loki has been seeing?" my father gawks.

"Yes, father, have you never bothered to look from your high seat in Valaskjalf?" I question, regarding him with cold eyes.

"No, I am not interested in what distracts my son and possible heir from honor," he shoots back. Sigyn visibly winces.

"She is a better person than _you_ could ever be. You should be congratulating me for finding such a great person in _Asgard_," I insult.

"Loki, I hope someday you learn that life will not support you with your frivolous magic tricks and petty friends," Odin sighs.

"But, father, Eir uses magic to heal all of us and—," I start.

"Enough! I should never have come," my father mutters, shaking his head. He sighs once more and leaves us, probably heading off to love Thor more than he could ever love me.

"Loki…," Sigyn trails off.

"Rise, Sigyn, there was never a need to bow in the first place, not to _that_," I scoff. I offer her a hand and help her up.

"I'm so sorry, Loki!" she cries, throwing her arms around my neck and embracing me tightly.

"Nay, Sigyn, it's for the better. The more distance between those who hate me the better."

"Magic isn't frivolous. Njord uses magic all of the time," she whimpers.

"That just proves how ignorant he is," I point out.

"I'm still sorry." Her brown eyes have taken on the shiny sheen again so I tilt her head up and smile.

"Come, worry not of another person's problems. I want to show you something," I say.

I snatch up her hand and rush her out of my room and down the winding passages of our palace. We exit the wide, cold halls and emerge into the golden sunlight, throwing warmth on us. The light catches her ever so blonde hair and makes it gleam and shine iridescently.

Making sure we are unnoticed, I lead her into the thicker orchards belonging to my mother. The boughs and leaves above us darken the air once more but the crisp scent of the varying trees signal that at one point the golden light had reached here before. I pull her deeper, lithely springing over the thick roots and fallen branches with care. Behind me, Sigyn stumbles to keep up, and though she does not move so swiftly like I do, she retains her ability to tread on the discarded leaves without making a sound.

"Here, this is the best spot," I say as we reach a very small clearing. Thick boughs and shivering leaves still entwine above us, making the space dark, but the trees are just far enough apart to leave us room to sit down and still have more space.

"Why did you bring me here?" Sigyn asks, peering around with her doe eyes.

"I want to show you one of my favorite magic tricks," I say.

I straighten out my hands and have her place hers over mine, palm up. Silently concentrating, I let fire spring into life just above her hands, an ever so small flame. She pales at the sight, obviously not used to fire, and her eyes widen. Her dark eyes reflect the jumping flames as I feed energy to them. I watch her, and not the beautiful display, as I shift the fire into the form of a blooming blossom and a few other pretty sights. But it is not the fancy work of the flames that is most enjoyable here, but the look of awe and amazement in her expression, of joy in seeing such a display.

I try to keep the show going for her as long as I can but when the sun started to set I knew that we must end this day. I release her hands and lead her back out of the orchard, walking her to Noatun. When we are just at the path that leads down to her hall, she turns around and embraces me, thanking me for such a wonderful time. With one last glance at her, I close my green eyes down and kiss her, just briefly. When I open my eyes again she was flushed and I was probably just as red.

She muttered a farewell to me, which I returned, and we went a separate ways.

It's nice how one person can shift such terrible inconveniencies, such as my father's nagging, into merely a minor threat.


End file.
